


Be True To Who You Are

by dedougal



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Community: tw_holidays, Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-06
Updated: 2013-01-06
Packaged: 2017-11-23 21:45:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/626848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dedougal/pseuds/dedougal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times Derek and Stiles were pretend boyfriends and one time they were less pretend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Be True To Who You Are

**Author's Note:**

> Written for tw_holidays. I didn't have many prompts beyond pretend boyfriends but this was lots of fun anyway.

1\.   
Their target slipped into the fanciest restaurant in Beacon Hills just before they managed to catch up with her. Stiles had driven, trying to remember everything he’d ever learned from bad movies and his dad’s offhand comments about trailing someone – keeping other cars in between them, staying in the opposite lane – but Derek had made him pull over when the car had vanished. Then, in the rear view window, they both watched rather helplessly as the woman who smelled all wrong (according to Derek) air kissed a man in a suit and then vanished through the heavy wooden doors.

“We could sneak in the back?” Stiles could see the alleyway running alongside the restaurant. Derek slowly climbed out of the jeep and Stiles followed. He wasn’t parked that illegally. 

Derek shook his head. “Wouldn’t work.” He did have a certain economy of phrase that Stiles sometimes envied but more often was intensely frustrated by. Stiles was about to demand more explanation when Derek strode across the road and then Stiles just had to follow him.

“We’re not just going to walk in there? We can’t! We’re not dressed…” Derek pushed open the door and all Stiles’s protests dried up under the withering glare of the hostess. She was dressed in a sleek black dress and her hair was in one of those fancy updos where everything was smooth and perfect. Stiles was in a purple plaid shirt over a green t-shirt. He was theming the Avengers this week and today was Hulk. Even Derek’s black on black seemed out of place. 

Derek rocked on his heels, momentarily thrown, before nodding and pasting on one of those toothy grins he obviously thought worked on women. Or people who were attracted to him. “Table for two?”

“Do you have a reservation?” Stiles could not believe that the woman could be anymore coolly dismissive but apparently he was wrong. She might have been shorter than them but she had the undeniable looking down her nose at them expression down pat.

“No.” Derek’s hands flexed into claws and then back to normal. Stiles stumbled closer, determined to stop the potential blood bath and then Derek’s arm was around his shoulder, drawing him close, plastering his body all along Derek’s solid, muscular side. Stiles had to sling his arm around Derek’s waist, palm stroking over the buttery soft leather of his jacket. “It was a spur of the moment thing.” And then Derek’s lips were pressed against his cheek. “Don’t suppose you’ve got something in the back?”

Stiles swallowed, telling his traitorous cock that this was _so_ not the time, and tried to look suitably besotted. The hostess’ haughty expression softened, just a little, and she grabbed a couple of menus and led them through the dining room to a dark booth lit by a candle in a red glass jar. It was all very intimate and romantic. Derek kept a hold of Stiles’s arm as they settled into the darkest shadowy part of the booth, tugging until Stiles was almost sitting in his lap.

“What are you doing?” Stiles whispered when the hostess scuttled back to her post and Derek had opened his menu.

“Disguise.” Derek shot back, low and angry. Stiles could see the woman they’d been following looking over and he turned back to Derek who seemed to be watching him. Then Derek was leaning forward and placed a soft kiss on Stiles’s still open mouth. “We have to sell it.”

“Okay.” Stiles pressed back. “You’re paying though. There’s no way I can afford this.” 

 

2.  
“We’re going to get caught and then we’ll both be known as creepy perverts. Not just you. Everyone knows you’re creepy with all the lurking and coming into my bedroom at night and everything. Stalker.” They were in the Camaro this time, although Stiles had promised his jeep that no one could replace her before Derek had picked him up. Derek’s seats were very comfortable though. Ridiculously so.

Derek didn’t answer him, watching instead the other cars – the more steamed up cars – that were parked along the edge of the overlook.

“It is a pretty view. We could always say we were just admiring that. The view.” Stiles couldn’t deal with the silence. “It is very romantic. All twinkling lights.”

Derek grunted.

“Conversation with you just sucks. You must have learned small talk at some point.” Derek had his eyes fixed out of the front windscreen on some distant unknown point. “Nothing? Really? Not even the weather.” Stiles picked at his jeans for a moment and then looked up out of the car. He could swear that one of the cars had a whole Titanic handprint thing going on. He was never going to actually be up here, parking. Partially he didn’t need to be. His dad worked enough late shifts that, if he ever managed to get a date, he could move the hot and heavy action to his house. His couch. His bed…

That was when Derek grabbed his face and kissed him. It wasn’t soft and all tentative, like that time in the restaurant which Stiles had tried (well, half-heartedly) not to use as an interesting jumping off point for his private Stiles time. This kiss felt like Derek was trying to crawl down his throat – not the nicest image. Stiles pulled his head back, needing to catch his breath but mainly in protest. He could feel the stubble burn already.

“What the hell?” The words were strangled and more high pitched than Stiles was entirely happy with.

“Someone’s out there.” Derek breathed, one hand on the back of Stiles’s neck. His other hand seemed to be crawling up Stiles’s thigh. Oh. That was getting too close for comfort. Derek’s thumb was within a hair of rubbing over Stiles’s cock. Stiles let Derek pull him closer and there was definitely less teeth clashing in this kiss for all that it was no less intent on driving Stiles wild. “They’re on your side of the car,” Derek muttered into Stiles’s mouth.

Not really thinking about it, Stiles pulled back (ignoring the brush of Derek’s thumb. So ignoring it. Ignoring it hard. No! Not hard. Shit) and lowered the lever on his seat. The cushioned back was as flat as it was going to go when Stiles swallowed, leaned back and lifted his own arms to pull Derek over his lap. This was self-preservation. Whoever was out there was going to get Derek first. Oh yes.

There was a tap at the window and a torch shone through. “You can’t park here.” Stiles knew that voice. And the footsteps walking away, pausing, turning, and then walking away again.

“I think your dad is gone,” Derek said, mouth still basically pressed to Stiles’s. It was an odd sensation. Not, you know, unpleasant. Just. Odd. All around them, Stiles could hear cars starting up and he pushed at Derek.

“Let’s go,” he hissed, staying down low as Derek crawled back to the driver’s seat and started the car.

 

3.  
“I’m sorry but I can’t go with you to the formal.” Plus side, there’s a girl asking him out which is a Good Thing. Bad? She’s a freshman. And he’s a junior. And she’s like half his height. And there’s just no way in hell that’s going to work.

She’s determined. Stiles will give her that. “Why not?”

“Why not?” Stiles is also trapped. Literally. She’s got him between two sets of doors, up against the wall. He can see the parking lot and freedom just the other side of the glass. And now he needs a reason that isn’t “You’re too young.” He knows she’ll have a comeback to that. “I’m seeing someone.”

“Yeah? Who?” She’s really close now. His brain doesn’t want to work.

“He’s older.” Stiles blurts out. She freezes and then smiles wildly. It’s like her Christmas and birthday has come at once.

“He?” She’s squealing. That’s definitely squealing. She is so happy and Stiles doesn’t understand. He’s turning her down. Out of the corner of his eye, he catches sight of Derek leaning against his poor beleaguered jeep. Right. They have research to do.

“He’s waiting for me right now.” Stiles points out of the window. The girl’s eyes widen as she takes in Derek and Stiles is happy with the look of awe. Oh yes. He’s that awesome he can pull a hot older guy. Except, you know, not. “I’m sorry. Bye.”

She’s still staring at Derek so Stiles manoeuvres her out of the way and runs down the steps. Derek starts to scowl when he sees him. “Smile, Derek. Please.” Stiles mutters the words under his breath and Derek freezes and then his mouth tips up. It’s awkward as hell but Stiles will take it. “Is she still watching?”

Derek nods, shortly. 

“Fuck. Okay. Don’t rip out my throat or anything.” Stiles stops in front of Derek rather than trotting around to his own side of the car. He leans forward and places a quick kiss on Derek’s mouth. He leans back. And he’s still got all his insides not on the outside. Entrails intact. That’s… Derek’s eyes flicker, like some emotion other than anger and anger had managed to penetrate. Then it’s gone.

 

4.  
It’s not his fault that it’s couples night at Elysium. Not his fault. Lydia and Jackson were no problem, Erica, Isaac and Boyd were all kinda ‘couples is too narrow, man’ at the bouncer and Scott and Allison put aside their awkward off-again state to be all smiles and puppy dog tails. Then there’s him and Derek and that’s kinda how it always seems to end up.

“We have to do this way too often, dude.” Stiles threaded his finger through Derek’s belt loops. There was no way he was going to be able to slide a hand into Derek’s back pocket. Stiles would lose a hand if he tried. The jeans were so tight. Painted on. Stiles could basically see Derek’s balls if he looked closely enough sometimes. Which… yeah, he’d looked. Derek slid his hand in Stiles’s back pocket.

That’s okay. Stiles can cope with that. And with Derek curling his fingers to grab a handful of his ass. In retaliation, Stiles slid his free hand across Derek’s stomach.

The bouncer was still eyeing them suspiciously so Stiles went with the plan and dragged Derek onto the dance floor, burying them in the crowd. The loud, pulsing music made it difficult for Stiles to hear so he wasn’t surprised to feel the heat of Derek’s mouth planting itself on his ear to shout, “I can’t tell if they’re here.”

Stiles danced with him, slotting his thigh in between Derek’s legs. He hadn’t actually been in here before, not when it was full of people anyway. He thought he might have sneaked in when it was being renovated two incarnations ago. He rolled his hips, letting Derek steer them while he looked around. “Balcony?”

“Good plan.” Derek grabbed Stiles by the arm and towed him towards the spiral staircase leading up. They ended up against the railing, Derek’s arms trapping Stiles and Stiles looking over Derek’s shoulder. 

At least, that’s how it started. Then Derek’s lips were working their way up Stiles’s neck, across his jawline. When they reached Stiles’s ear, it was almost too much. Stiles was moments away from losing control and his hips punching up to rub himself against Derek like a horny cat. “Bouncer’s watching.”

Stiles twined his fingers in Derek’s hair and dragged his mouth against Stiles’s lips. There wasn’t much dragging, if Stiles was being honest. It was more guidance as Derek moved and Stiles decided to make this one look good. He opened his mouth and Derek took the hint to lick inside, Derek’s own hips making Stiles’s aborted thrusts unnecessary. Because through those skin tight jeans, it was clear Derek was hard too.

Then there was a scream from the middle of the dance floor.

 

5\.   
Stiles could totally freak out about the number of times Derek felt it necessary to skim his hand over his ass during this conversation. Should. Should be totally freaking out.

Fuck. He wasn’t. It felt…natural.

“You’re telling me you’ve taken a human mate.” The female alpha looked very sceptical, which Stiles objected to. He was totally mate material. “But you haven’t consummated it because he’s too young?”

She obviously had no problem with jailbait. Not with the way she was eyeing the rest of Derek’s pack with greedy eyes. If Stiles had thought his werewolves had a very particular affection for leather, it was nothing compared to the woman. She was basically a bad eighties soft rock video, big fluffy hair and all. Stiles was still mildly terrified of her. He wasn’t terrified of Derek. He was more scared that Derek was going to make him sport some really inappropriate wood in front of all his friends. Derek smelled good, especially when Stiles buried his nose in Derek’s neck to avoid having to be all impassive and stern.

He smothered the urge to giggle by kissing at the spot under Derek’s ear. It tasted nice, a little salty perhaps. Stiles dipped his tongue out and licked. The alpha grinned - it was a much too a nasty grimace to be described as a smile – and Stiles tacked the word lasciviously on there.

“He looks to be ready to me,” she continued, tilting her head like she was considering watching them stroll into areas where Stiles’s imagination had taken him on a regular basis. But he was one of the participants in his dreams and daydreams and fantasies. She was a creepy wolf and, not to be too cruel, majorly on the wrong side of the age debate. She was basically redefining cougar with her come on to Derek.

“Should we let her watch me suck you off?” Stiles whispered into Derek’s ear. Of course she heard, as did the rest of the pack. They tried to hide their winces. Derek didn’t wince. His hand tightened on Stiles’s ass and pulled him even closer. And the alpha just smirked.

Then Derek turned his head and kissed Stiles, long and filthy and tongue and everything. Stiles was reeling from a) lack of oxygen getting to his brain or b) from the zero to sixty pace this fake relationship seemed to be taking. Derek looked shocked for a moment before dropping another kiss, this time soft and weirdly possessive on Stiles’s mouth. It reminded him of the first time they’d kissed and that made his brain stutter to a halt again. He and Derek really had done this way too often.

Then Derek stepped away from Stiles and stalked towards the female alpha, claws out and doing the head twist that signalled he was seconds away from a change. The woman stood her ground for a moment before taking a stuttering step back. Then another. Then she shrugged.

“I’ll be off your territory by midnight.”

“Sooner.” Derek’s voice was all command and growl and it sent tendrils of - well, it wasn’t fear. It was probably arousal – up Stiles’s spine. “Boyd, Erica. See our guest out of town.”

Erica and Boyd were pretty terrifying when they came to stand in front of Derek who threw them his car keys. The other alpha was still making her slow (less slow now) progress backwards towards her own car. She broke into something approaching a run as Erica and Boyd followed her off the porch. 

The sounds of the cars driving away made Stiles relax back. Or, at any rate, he attempted to before Derek grabbed him by the arm and towed him towards his bedroom. Okay. Maybe they were going to have the conversation now.

 

And 1.

“I think they’re just pretending to freak us out.” Jackson was sneering. Stiles didn’t need to see him to know that. He could hear it through the wall, that perfectly haughty tone of voice. Jackson had pretty much dedicated himself to the perfect sneer (maybe he practised it in the mirror) and Stiles was used to being on the receiving end. Heh. Maybe that was the wrong thing to be thinking right now. Being as Derek was currently nosing up and down Stiles’s cock, the receiving end was the best place to be.

He faintly heard the door opening and closing as Derek sucked him down, mouth wet and warm and tight and, fuck, best thing Stiles had ever felt. He was going to come. He could already feel his orgasm building, hands scrabbling against the wall to keep himself upright. Derek’s hand wrapped tight around Stiles’s cock and then Stiles was begging. “You got to let me come, Derek. You gotta. You don’t know what you do to me-“

And then Derek was on his feet and kissing Stiles again, long and dirty, tongue undulating just as much as Stiles’s hips, hand spread possessively on Stiles’s hip. Stiles finally got his own body to co-operate, grabbing at Derek and trying to pull him closer. Although how that was supposed to happen without Derek crawling into his skin, Stiles didn’t know. He knew he let out a protest when Derek pulled away.

“We shouldn’t- Not-“ Derek’s hair was tugged out of his usual artful muss (by Stiles’s hands, craftsmanship to be proud of) and his mouth was red and swollen and Stiles had made him look like that. He had made Derek lose some of his precious control. Plus there was the whole shirtless, jeans open thing that meant Stiles couldn’t really take the protest seriously.

He waited a moment for Derek to say anything else before toeing out of his shoes and sliding his jeans off the rest of the way. Then Stiles strode, buck naked and cupping his cock, and lay back on Derek’s bed. He twisted his hand around his cock, more of a tease than a deliberate attempt to come, although his balls were starting to protest, not accustomed to being denied like this. “I think we should stop pretending.”

Derek watched, eyes flickering red for an instant before he followed Stiles, stripping off his pants and coming to lie on top of Stiles, mouth seeking Stiles’s again. “We could do that,” he said when he pulled up, looking down to arrange hands and cocks and then Stiles forgot everything as he came and came and came over Derek’s belly and hand and cock and was covered in come in return.

Best fake but real boyfriend ever. That’s what he was.


End file.
